


Turbulence

by wrenstars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: broganes, keithbdayweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12487248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenstars/pseuds/wrenstars
Summary: Going through the Garrison is turbulent: nothing is stable, and everything is changing.A snippet into a few events from Keith's duration at the Garrison.Work for KeithBdayWeek Day 3: Garrison





	Turbulence

It feels like drowning.

Standing there, alone, before the building that towers over you, surrounded by a swarm of people all laughing and shouting and fitting easily in with each other. They click like a puzzle, like they were always supposed to be there, creating a larger picture while you are an outlier: a piece that doesn’t fit, that never will, that was never part of the original design. It makes you feel as small and insignificant as an ant amongst all these tall, imposing things: they’re all pressing down on you, pressing against your nose and mouth until your chest is restricted and you can’t breathe.

You’re drowning, and no one else realises.

The Galaxy Garrison is so much bigger than what you are used to. Schools beforehand had always been quiet, and you could sit at the back of the classroom undisturbed. The houses you’d resided in had encouraged distance and been devoid of any sort of warmth. Everything had always been quiet, like music playing in the background as you coasted through life.

The Garrison is not cold. It is bright: from the colour of the uniform to the excited chatter of voices in every direction to the warmth radiating from bodies crashing around you. You feel your cheeks flush and you fold your arms across your chest in a desperate attempt to create a shield against the world.

You almost consider running.

But you’d worked so hard to get here. The Garrison was many things. The system of dormitories provided an escape from the foster care system, where you were shunted from family to family as though you were nothing more than a pile of trash. It was also an opportunity. To perhaps become something more. To understand why the stars continued to call to you, when you were hunkered down on the ground.

Perhaps it was the joy you felt while travelling, or the allure of the quiet expanse of space.

You draw in a breath and slowly walk forward, trying to ignore the students bustling in all directions, and the walls you walk through that feel like they’re closing in on you, trapping you.

The Garrison is bigger than any complex you’ve walked through. But it will get easier with time, you tell yourself. You’ll get used to it.

You always have.

* * *

Flying is freedom.

That’s what you realise after hours in the simulation, piloting with ease, a grin spread across your face as you push, constantly push, revelling in challenge and growing frustrated when the task is too simple. Flying doesn’t require too much thought, or concentration: the movements are automatic, your reactions occurring without thought.

 _Finally_ , you’ve found something you’re not only _good_ at, but you also _love_.

You’ve always acted on instinct. It’s kept you alive: it’s told you how to act, who to avoid, when you would be tolerated and when was a good time to retreat and lock yourself in your room. You’re like an animal, always ready to launch into flight and escape as the slightest hint of danger.

Instinct keeps you alive.

But here it sets you free.

It’s the rush of adrenaline when you complete a complex manoeuvre. It’s your heart pounding in your chest when an asteroid almost collides with you. It’s the rush of speed, the twists and turns, the way your blood is fuelled when you accelerate.

Here, there are no limits. No strings. No bargains or consequences. Not even people. When you fly, that’s all you know. It’s just you, and the ship.

This is where you belong.

This is where you were born to be.

You’ve never found a place to belong before, and you never considered it might be in a tiny box with a screen simulating what the expanse of space might be like.

But you do. You belong in the pilot’s seat. You belong amongst the stars, where your instincts keep you alive. You belong in a place where there are no rules, no people to pull you down or harm you. Space is huge. Empty. And no one will hurt you.

You begin to long for simulations, fingers itching until they close around the steering. You drum your fingers on the table in class, barely able to focus because you keep wondering what new challenges the simulation will pose that day.

Because you’ve never had a home before, but simulation room feels more like home than any building has before.

* * *

Meeting Shiro feels like walking into the sun.

You have exited a particularly tricky simulation that you passed with flying colours, still buzzing like your insides are made of energy drink. You can see people stare at you as you pass, but pay them no need. This is not their thing. Flying is yours, it _belongs_ to you, and no one is going to ruin it for you. You push past the crowd and enter the corridor, only to slow.

Standing outside is a figure so familiar you recognise him on sight. How could you not, when he is all the Garrison staff and students talk about?

Takashi Shirogane – or Shiro, you heard he prefers to be called – pushes himself off the wall to stand in front of you.

And it’s like walking into the sun because Takashi Shirogane is legendary in the Garrison. He’s the golden boy, the most talented pilot the Garrison has. Your classmates speak of him in awe, and stop to stare when he passes. Even you will slow down to watch him, to wonder what makes him so good, and wish that you could one day be at his level.

It's a saying amongst cadets and instructors: what would Shiro do?

 “Hey,” Shiro says. You stop, body still freezing at being addressed. You never expected to run into him, much less talk to him. Shiro is everything good about the Garrison: he represents the best of it.

Why does he want to talk to _you_? Did he watch the simulation? What did he think? You lick your lips.

You wait, already bracing yourself for the worst, but Shiro only smiles. “You’re Keith, aren’t you? I saw you fly the simulator. I think you might be giving me a run for my money.”

You blink. No one has never sought you out to talk to you for something positive before. You’d expected criticism, that to receive the opposite is almost like a slap to the face.

Shiro frowns. “Keith? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you blurt. You look away. “Just… wasn’t expecting that.”

“Did you think I was going to tell you off for flying brilliantly?”

It’s sarcastic, spoken with a touch of humour, but it hits close to home. You purse your lips. In the back of your mind, you have thought exactly that. It’s shameful to admit aloud.

Shiro flashes you a look of concern. “I’m sorry you thought that way,” he says quietly. “Is there anything you need?”

 _Quiet. Noise. Space. To be touched. To be left alone. To be loved_.

“I’m not sure,” is all you say.

Shiro nods, though his eyebrows furrow. Is that… worry, on his face? You shake your head. You must be imagining things. No one has ever really been worried about you. Why should Shiro, someone you’ve only just met?

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says.

* * *

Life feels like a top spinner: it’s spinning, everything a blur, and you’re not quite sure if you’ll stay on the table or fall to the ground.

You never had plans to let anyone in. You’ve experienced heartbreak before, in countless foster homes at a young age, when you were still naïve and yearned for the slightest hint of affection. You were confused and missing Da and suddenly you had two new parents – so surely they’d love you just the same, right? You’d approach them, tug on their shirts, their hands, reach out hoping for the comfort of a hug.

But instead of the warm you so desperately craved, you received cold. Frigid cold. An annoyed snap. A hand would be yanked away. A scolding, an order to return to your room. And sometimes worse things. They had the fire you needed, but they defended it with a blast of ice until you felt like you had frostbite across all your limbs.

It was then you learned that it hurt to love, and you put your walls up. You constructed a fortress around yourself, building the walls so high that even you couldn’t see over the other side. You forgot what it looked like, to be encompassed by that warmth, but that was okay since remembering hurt and if there was anything worse than being trapped in the cold, it was allowing yourself to be damaged once more. You couldn’t stand that.

And you had a resolve to keep those walls up – until Shiro.

You didn’t expect any other interactions with the Galaxy Garrison’s golden boy apart from that one chance encounter, but he keeps popping up where you least expect him.

He finds you before class and greet you warmly.

(You can barely recall any other morning greeting than the jingling of keys and the slam of a door as your foster parents headed to work.)

You walk out of class and he’s there, asking how things had gone in class and did you need any help with anything?

(Any plea for help you’d made in the past had been rejected since everyone always had better things to do than spend even more time with you.)

When you are silent, he encourages you to ask him questions.

(Asking questions was like speaking a foreign language. You’d been persuaded out of that long ago.)

He sits with you in the mess hall, accompanied by his friend Matt, and despite your effort not to enjoy his company he has you cracking a smile, sometimes even a laugh, with the jokes and stories he tells.

(You’d spent most of your meals alone. And it has been so long since you’d smiled that it felt strange on your face. How do people contort their muscles like this so often?)

You try to keep him out. Warning bells blared in your head, and soldiers rally to fight the battle to protect the walls you’d so carefully constructed. There is no way you could let anyone in again – your heart would only be shattered.

For he is so warm, and you are so cold that you are scared if you got too close, you will burn.

But Shiro persists. He doesn’t give up. He is there, with a smile and a gentle touch to your shoulder: an action that originally makes you flinch, but over time makes you feel safe. There is warmth, not ice, in Shiro’s eyes when he looks at you. It is almost as though Shiro _likes_ you.

You’d given up hope that you could ever again be liked. You thought there was something wrong with you, that you’d been broken beyond repair and that was why nobody wanted you.

You were scared to let Shiro in, because he was offering everything you’d ever wanted on a silver platter, but you were so terrified that there would be strings attached, that this was too good to be true.

But Shiro sees you at your best and at your worst. He sees you when you are on a high after a particularly good simulation run, and after you’ve been yelled at by an instructor for spacing out in class. He sees you happy, he sees you sad, he sees you angry, and yet he never judges. He just listens, and speaks gently yet firmly, always with the right advice.

And when he doesn’t leave, the walls slowly come down. Brick by brick, Shiro’s strength grows until there are numerous gaps in your walls

And then he’s in, and it’s everything you dreamed of. In fact, you pinch yourself often to make sure this isn’t just some hopeful daydream.

Shiro becomes the family you’d never expected, never known you needed. He is a brother and mentor and your best friend, all wrapped into one.

Can you trust him to keep you around?

You think you can.

* * *

Being with Shiro and Matt feels like being bathed in sunlight.

You’re not used to it. You’re not used to people _smiling_ when they see you, and trying to make you do the same. You’re not used to be included, to having people like you, to being treated like an equal rather than someone to avoid.

It’s like you’re constantly on cloud nine. You’re listening to them recount their days, pushing each other jovially and embracing after. You’re sneaking out with them after curfew to spend time on the roof, simply looking at the stars and talking.

You’re complaining about Iverson and speaking your mind without being told to shut up. You’re rambling about the stars, how they seem endless and distant yet still call to you, and instead of being judged it invokes a philosophical debate about humans and the universe. You’re laughing, you’re actually having _fun_ , you’re not viewing each day as another bunch of hours you have to survive.

There are no complications. No bartering. Just the companionship of two boys, and the simplicity of it all is what boggles you. You’re so used to living with survival instincts flared, keeping to the walls of the room and walking with your head down. Any relationship had always come with a cost.

But maybe that wasn’t living.

Maybe surviving doesn’t equal living.

Maybe, you think, _this_ is what they call living. Looking forward to the day instead of bracing yourself for attack.

And you realise what you’ve been missing all of your life.

You fall silent, and the others pick up on it instantly. They’re both sitting beside you, and asking what’s wrong.

You hesitate. You are still unsure if you’re allowed to divulge personal information: you’re so accustomed to holding everything back that letting it go is like learning how to walk all over again.

But Shiro places a hand on your shoulder, and Matt’s insisting that you can talk to them, and it all rushes out of your mouth. How mad you are that you’re only just discovering what it means to live. That you’re so sad you’ve been missing out on so much for so long and is your life even worth it if so much of it has been empty?

You’re close to breaking down at the end that you close your eyes to hold the tears back – so you don’t see the anger in both of your friends’ eyes, and also the sad fondness they gaze at you with.

“It doesn’t matter what it was like before,” Shiro says. “Though I’d go back and knock some sense into everyone if I could. What matters is that you’re happy now, and that you have us. Don’t you think?”

You open your eyes. He’s smiling, and so is Matt, and you feel such a rush of affection for both of them it’s almost enough to make you break down again.

Instead you accept a hug, and you wonder if its’ true what they say, that people can be your home.

You believe it is.

* * *

Kerberos almost feels like betrayal.

Almost. You remind yourself that Shiro isn’t going forever. He’s coming back. You won’t be alone for too long.

When Shiro and Matt break the news, you grin and pound them on the back. How can you begrudge them this? It is such a huge honour to be chosen. Shiro can’t stop smiling.

In the months of preparation, you barely see him. He’s busy practicing with his crew and performing all the preparation needed for months of travel in space.

He doesn’t forget you, though. He still shows up, offering his help despite labouring over his own tasks for hours. It’s something you’re grateful for.

The months blur together, and finally the day arrives. You approach the launch platform with Shiro, craning your neck back as far as it can go to see the top of the spaceship looming before you.

Matt is saying goodbye to his family. Shiro doesn’t have any, so as his brother in all but blood, you stay close to him as you both gaze up at the ship that Shiro will pilot to Kerberos.

Shiro sighs, resting his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe the day has come,” he whispers. “For months it felt so far away.”

“You have a good crew,” you say. “You’ll be fine.”

Shiro glances over at the small congregation of Holts, too far away to make out clearly, all hugging each other frequently. “Yeah. I couldn’t ask for better.” He grins, then elbows you in the side. “It could only be improved if you were coming, too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m still a cadet.”

“It won’t be long until you graduate.”

You press your lips together and look at the sky. The azure blue masks the endless expanse of black that lies just beyond, relieved only by the pinprick light of stars. You reach a hand out, so small against the vastness of the world. Of the universes.

There is so much out there, and only so much the Garrison can prepare you for. Your hand falls to your side. It’s not the first time you wonder if Shiro will make it back.

“You’d better be there for it,” you say, voice almost too quiet to hear. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “You’d better come back.”

Shiro turns, places both hands on your shoulders. He looks you directly in the eye when he says, “Keith, I will come back, in one way or another. You know that.”

He has a good crew, you remind yourself. And Shiro is the pilot. The best, most celebrated pilot in the Garrrison. He doesn’t make errors, or lose his cool in a crisis. He’ll be fine.

You smile. “I suppose.”

Shiro squeezes your shoulders. An announcement comes over the comms, telling Shiro it’s time to go.

“If I meet any aliens, I’ll be sure to tell you,” Shiro says.

You laugh, and salute. “Safe journey.”

He smiles, and you embrace one last time before he leaves, Matt jogging to catch up with him. They walk side by side, accompanied by Matt’s father, and they board.

You stay there, even after the ship disappears from view, trying to forget the distance that’s rapidly spreading between you.

* * *

It doesn’t just feel like everything is falling apart.

It just _is_.

The announcement comes, and for a moment you can’t move. You’re like a robot that has been switched off because you cannot think, cannot move, cannot function. Your brain is taking up all of your body’s firepower as it attempts to process the words that have been spoken, trying to make sense of them, because there is no way this is true.

You notice a few people around you sending you pitying looks, though you pretend not to notice.

You can almost hear your brain scream like an overworked computer engine as the words are repeated continuously, their volume too huge to make it through the database. But they do – somehow – and now it’s worse because the words are repeating but you can make sense of them.

The Kerberos mission failed.

All crew members dead.

Matt and Sam Holt, dead.

Takashi Shirogane, dead.

 _Shiro_.

You swallow and turn, ignoring that you’re supposed to be in class in five minutes. That isn’t important. Nothing is important – not anymore. Nothing is more important than the fact Shiro is gone, and you’re alone.

Again.

People move out of your way as you storm past, as turbulent as a hurricane. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the window as you thunder by. You look terrifying: pale, eyes wild, splotches of red covering your face. There are no tears.

You’re beyond tears.

It’s like a black hole has opened up inside of you and is devouring you whole. You’re unable to fight the current – all you can do is tumble into the gaping expanse of emptiness, nothingness, consumed by the knowledge that you have loved, and once again it has left you shattered and numb and wishing you couldn’t feel anything at all.

It feels like you’re lost at sea.

Shiro was your family, your brother, your anchor – and he’s gone. You’re once more alone, and nothing can change that. You have no direction to go in, and you’re surrounded by nothingness.

The colour drains from the world.

You reach your dormitory and slam your door shut. You barely register the noise and you collapse onto your bed and stare blankly at the ceiling, wondering how you could have been so foolish to think that Shiro wouldn’t hurt you.

And the worst part is that he never even meant to, but it’s happened anyway.

Maybe, you think… Maybe you’re cursed.

The walls build once more, and you don’t even notice.

* * *

You feel like a forest fire, burning uncontrollably through bushland, with only more fuel to feed on before you and nothing to stop you.

It doesn’t take long for an explanation for the failure of the Kerberos mission to come through. They blame it on pilot error, and it takes every ounce of self-control you possess to not leap to your feet and throttle the closest person to you.

Because you know Shiro, and you know he doesn’t make errors. He never does.

Instead you sit there and grind your teeth, the spark of rage flaring within you. The spark only grows, feeding on every lie the Garrison tries to shove down your throat. Because you know it’s not true, there’s no way it can be true, and if they didn’t crash then Shiro could be out there and no one is doing anything about it.

Rage is suddenly the emotion you know the most. Rage and desperation. You need the truth, and nothing, not even the Garrison, is going to stop you.

Your anger makes you reckless. You sneak out at night to look at confidential files. You demand every personnel what really happened on the Kerberos mission, but they only smile condescendingly at you and repeat the failure was due to pilot error. You yell, shout obscenities, but nothing makes them budge.

You retreat into yourself like a turtle retreats into its shell. That shell is your fortress, your protection against the world. You’re determined to never be hurt again, and that involves pushing everyone aside. You don’t care for pity, or for people who attempt to befriend you to better their position in class. It isn’t long until everyone avoids you and you’re alone, with all the time in the world you need to try and piece together what happened on Kerberos.

Flying is your only comfort. You’re pushing yourself harder than ever before. Because at this rate, it looks like the only way you’ll ever find Shiro is if you take off yourself, and you need all of the experience and preparation you can get.

Your very purpose of getting through each day is discovering what happened to Shiro and Matt. The fire is wild and only encourages you, and you’ll be damned if anything comes between you and your goal.

You needed Shiro, and he was there for you. He saved you. You’d only be living a half life now if it wasn’t for him.

Now he needs you, and one way or another, you’re going to return the favour.

* * *

The expulsion feels like falling without a parachute or any chance to grab onto something that will break your fall.

You’re shell-shocked when Iverson produces the papers, and nasty grin across his face. Your heart drops, and your immediate thought is that Shiro would be so disappointed in you, that you almost ask if it’s possible for you to stay.

But the smug smile Iverson is wearing makes your blood boil and you snatch the paper out of his hands, glaring all the while. No one here cares about you, just as no one cares about Shiro. Everyone wants to bring you down, to make you feel small.

You won’t allow them to satisfaction of seeing just how badly they’ve shaken you.

So you lift your head and storm out of the building as though you intended to be thrown out. But you’re deflating the further you walk. You’ll never fly again. The one thing that makes life worth living is being torn from you. You have nowhere else to go. How can you go back to the way things were, when Shiro has taught you there’s so many better things out there?

You don’t belong anywhere. Not anymore. You have no idea where to go, and you only have a meagre amount of possessions on your back. You can see your future slipping through your fingers, and the harder you try and grab it, the more transparent it becomes until it’s like trying to catch smoke in your fists.

You stand outside the Garrison, a possible future at your back, now barred to you forever. The desert stretches out before you, as barren and empty as you feel.

Despite the warmth, you shiver. What’s your next move? You have no idea. You’re lost, and you don’t have a map to guide you in the right direction.

You close your eyes. This desert is vaguely familiar to you – it was part of your childhood, if you recall correctly.

Your eyes open. Maybe, if you’re lucky, and remember rightly… There might be something out here for you.

You hitch your bag over your shoulders and walk as though you have purpose.

Shiro is still out there. You’re still going to look for him. The Galaxy Garrison was one avenue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it was the only one. There has to be something you can still do. You just need to find it.

The Garrison is behind you, and you don’t look back.

 


End file.
